


Prelude: Under the Pear Tree

by CaptainLuxCanis



Series: Avalon [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:50:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6241909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLuxCanis/pseuds/CaptainLuxCanis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The adventures of Lexie Avalon when she was Alexandria Rivers, before she became what she became.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prelude: Under the Pear Tree

**Author's Note:**

> An early introduction to someone who, for so long, has been a persona of myself. But thanks to a peacock feather she is now The Neon Captain in her own right. Edited: May 14th ‘13.

The wind blew fierce and the sun scorched the plains of Meadowtree happily as the giant oaks and maples that were dotted around lapped up the glorious energy through their bright green leaves. The long grass rippled like waves and the trees swayed as if listening to peaceful music.  
Blue-feathered pheasants and peacocks wondered freely and safely for the only animals bigger than themselves were the meadow mustangs that only fed on maple seeds, fallen fruit and grass.  
The smaller predators left the bright birds alone, as every living thing in their worlds knew; blue was a colour of respect. To be a creature of natural blue was to be protected. That is, until you found yourself in the badlands, where it was free-for-all.  
A pine martin sniffed at a leaf beetle then lifted its head in alarm. It ran speedily up the nearest tree and watched wearily as a meadow mustang galloped past, hooves flattening the grass and kicking up the dried earth underneath as it went.  
Plain mice dashed to avoid the heavy hooves, abandoning their search for food in the tall grass to hide in the cooler shadows, and an unsuspecting peacock called out in alarm.  
The mustang whinnied as it came to a halt next to an orchard full of pear, apple, cherry and plum trees. It smelt the blossoms of a low hanging branch and thought better of it, turning its majestic head instead to the floor and began nibbling the grass there.  
The hot wind was cooler in the shadows and didn’t blow so hard due to the shelter the trees provided.  
It was the perfect reading spot; and so thought the young woman dismounting her loyal meadow mustang and settling under a pear tree.  
She closed her eyes and slowly breathed in the hot air, the smell of nature filled her with joy and relief to be free from her life only three miles away.  
Keeping her eyes closed she absent-mindedly ran her fingers through the soft grass around her. Here it was shorter due to the orchard trees stealing the majority of the sun which also meant no small mammals came here. All the better, she knew, for Cachell, like every other mustang, got nervous around them. Not that anyone knew why; it was just the way things were.  
Her fingers found a fallen twig from the pear tree and she began to swish it about, it was a wand, a sword, a lance and then a haroosh.  
Her play stopped when she imagined it to be a dagger and threw it at the cherry tree opposite her. It did not sink into the heart of her enemy as it did in her imagination but instead fell softly onto the roots of the tree as a few petals of blossom drifted to cover it.  
She sighed peacefully and reached for the satchel that was hanging from her shoulder. Inside it was an assortment of books; twisted fairytales, legends of the King of Camelot, myths about a man with a giant wooden boat and his many animals onboard, of lycans and smydons, of neraida and so many other things she loved to spend her time with.  
Wrapped in cotton as she was, her parents didn’t want her to read the books she did and they hated her sitting in the orchard since that’s where the main neraida settlement was.  
Neraida were the size of a human hand and looked exactly like humans did (with a few subtle differences), but if you were to ever point this out to them they would be sure to never talk to you again.  
Despite their size, they were strong in body, mind and voice and they were sophisticated and proud; distant cousins of fairies and elves; their clothes were made from the nature they lived in.  
Each tree signified a certain rank in the community, the orchard was full of the neraida monarchy and nobles as fruit bearing trees were considered higher ranking than ones that bore nuts and seeds. The highest ranking was the cherry tree.  
Presently, a pair of neraida were watching the reader with smiles upon their faces. They knew the girl well and they delighted in her joy of the books she lovingly held and smelt and studied. The two young neraida knew her dreams and doubts and needs, more than her own family did. They were her best friends.  
Luckily, this most noble community of neraida accepted her company well and did not scorn her like they did the other humans, for this girl took time to appreciate the small miracles and wonders of nature. She would notice the spin of a maple seed as it fell and which branch made which noise as the wind blew.  
Artemis and Apollo waited patiently from their hole in the largest cherry tree for two things at once; for their parents not to be looking their way and for a pheasant or peacock to walk by the tree. Despite the lack of rodents in the orchard the birds came a-plenty for they liked the cool of the trees and when autumn came many more would come to pick at the fallen fruit, just as the meadow mustangs would.  
So the twins sat and waited and luck struck when their parents were called to meeting and left them to their own.  
Not long after, a pair of pheasants and several peacocks flocked past and they took their chance. They jumped elegantly from the hole half way up the tree and landed on a bird each.  
The birds called in alarm and scattered, all except the two the neraida were upon. After the initial shock of being landed on, they calmed quickly and let themselves be steered; this was the norm and they knew they were in no danger.  
The noise of the birds made the reader raise her head and she smiled at the riders, who in turn rode toward her beaming, smiles so wide their extra long canines could easily be seen.  
Artemis, astride a fanned out peacock, rode slightly ahead, sitting side-saddle and proud. She wore a short skirt of cherry blossoms, a flowing shirt of shimmering spider silk and softened bark upon her feet resembling ballet shoes. Upon her head was a thin string from the inside of a flower stalk tied around her head, to the right of this stuck out a small blue pheasant’s feather.  
Apollo, riding a pheasant, wore a cloak of a large maple leaf, mixed in spring and autumn colours, and, like all neraida clothing, flowing and subtle. On his legs were spider silk three-quarter length trousers and upon his head sat a short hat, the rim rounded at the back and pointed at the front, a feather, identical to his sister’s, stuck out from the right of his elven hat.  
A main thing they shared with their Fae cousins was the bows they carried. Neraida, though, had delicate bows and arrows and the bow to a neraida was like a ship to a captain; it was their whole being, objectified.  
The twins rode confidently further forward and stopped either side of the young woman’s out stretched legs.  
“Miss Alexandria,” Apollo bowed, his hat being kept tight to his head by his mop of almost black hair, flickered with a midnight blue where the sun had broken through the canopy and struck it.  
“Afternoon,” she replied, inclining her head. “But please, Alex,” Artemis stuck her tongue out at her brother then smiled widely, her perfectly round eyes glistening in the broken sunlight, the iridescent purple and emerald two-tone of her irises shimmered like opal and the horizontal pupils dilated as the trees shadowed her eyes from the sun seeping through the canopy once more.  
“Alex! We’re here for-”  
“Stories,” Alex smiled. “I know you well enough for that.”  
Neraida were highly intelligent and spoke English just as the humans and Fae did but their written English was drastically different; a series of swirls and shapes similar to fingerprints. And as neraida stories weren’t the same as human ones, the twins relished the new tales, but unfortunately needed a human to read them out.  
The three settled into their routine, Alex, against the pear tree, would read aloud from where they last left the story they were currently reading while the twins relaxed to listen, both set the birds to sit and rest.  
Apollo straddled the pheasant and lent his chin on its head, his sister lay on her back, arms behind her head, eyes closed, waist-length hair fanned out under her, comfortable on the feathered back of the peacock.  
Alex read, this time, from three quarters of the way through a book telling the tales of King Arthur of Camelot. She had almost finished when Apollo voiced a thought.  
“This Avalon Island, it’s important, isn’t it?”  
“Hey!” Artemis protested.  
“Heh… I can’t say, it’ll spoil it.”  
“That’s a yes,” Apollo said bluntly. His sister sighed but he continued. “This Avalon… is it good or bad?”  
“Avalon?” Alex said in a daze. The sound of howling wind rushed past her, bringing with it the smell of salt.  
She was bought out of her memories of sitting under the pear tree by the sharp spray of the chaotic sea and an urgent call shouted to her not far away but barely audible over the crying wind.  
“-AVALON?!”  
“Wut?” Alex whispered to herself, still not completely in focus.  
“Captain Avalon, what are your orders?! Vespers are approaching fast,” her first mate urged. Cries and shouts came from the rest of the crew as they saw the flying crafts, just visible through the storm, almost upon them.  
“Lexie, snap your brain in gear!” Artemis shouted over the waves crashing against the wood of Alex’s precious ship as she stood atop her tricorn hat. The neraida aimed her bow at the nearest vesper and released the arrow where it became invisible in the rain.  
The sea breeze grazed Alex’s face and the lashing rain almost rendered her blind but it bought her out of her reverie.  
“Above below,” she told her first-mate calmly.  
“Aye aye, Skip” and he went to organise her crew.


End file.
